


It's a Goddess Thing

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angry Sex, Assassination Attempt(s), F/F, Goddesses, Humor, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: The goddess of war feuds with the goddess of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merryghoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/gifts).



> Set in a Greek-style world ie. Ancient Greek concepts and names are used, but this doesn’t fit into their mythology.
> 
> Enjoy!

Aristomache stormed into the goddess of love’s bedchambers, the doors falling off the hinges after she slammed them shut behind her. “This is the last straw, Kallisto!” she yelled, sweeping pretty jars and vases onto the floor as she approached the four-poster bed. “You’ve really done it this time!” She yanked open the velvet curtain.

Kallisto was lounging on her back with a white facemask and slices of cucumber over her eyes. She yanked off the cucumber, scowling at the goddess of war. “Yes, darling? What is it I’ve supposedly done?”

“ _You_ –” Aristomache pointed at Kallisto with glowering eyes – “bewitched one of my best warriors. And not only did you enchant her away from war, but you made her a goddess of peace!”

Kallisto sat up against her many crimson pillows, the colour contrasting with her dark brown skin. “With the way she carried on, she would’ve self-destructed in a year,” she said, playing with the silk of her white dress and gazing at Aristomache with a bored expression. “I saved her, made her see that there’s a better way.”

“Eirene was my favourite Amazon!” shouted Aristomache, clenching her fists.

“I know, dear, but it was for her own good.”

“You. Can’t. Keep. Meddling. In. My. Affairs. You. Crazy. Bitch.” Aristomache glowered, steam almost coming out her orifices.

Kallisto sighed. “If you don’t handle them yourself, I’m forced to intervene, Aristo. For a favourite mortal, you didn’t look after her very well.”

“Amazons don’t need protection,” Aristomache seethed.

“That’s nonsense; all mortals need us to protect them. That’s why we exist, to make sure everything goes smoothly down there,” said Kallisto, grabbing a hairbrush and running it through her luscious dark locks.

“I disrespectfully disagree.” Aristomache glared.

“I know you do, otherwise I wouldn’t have had to intervene.”

“You didn’t have to intervene, in fact I told you never to go near my favourites again after Tryphaena.” Aristomache was this close to tearing down the red velvet curtain and trashing the whole room.

“And look at Tryphaena now,” Kallisto said. “She’s my very loyal handmaiden.”

“She was loyal to me first,” Aristomache spat. “You need to stop stealing my girls away from me.”

“Or what?” Kallisto tossed her head, pouting.

“You’d better watch your back,” Aristomache warned, and stormed out before she killed the goddess of love.

* * *

The next morning, Aristomache’s armour and sword were missing. “That’s it,” she muttered, grounding her teeth.  “Korrina!” she beckoned her handmaiden. Korrina came. “Girl, I have an imperative task for you,” she said. “It requires skill and stealth and utter secrecy, but if you complete it to my satisfaction I’ll be very happy. Do you understand?”

Korrina nodded her dark head. “Yes, mistress. What do I have to do?”

“Well,” said Aristomache, placing a hand on Korrina’s shoulder and bending to whisper in her ear, “it’s like this…”

* * *

Korrina concealed the knife in a pile of laundry she brought to the goddess of love’s bedchamber. “Kallisto?” she called. She suspected her voice trembled, but she knew what she was doing. She was obeying her mistress and would make Aristomache proud.

The goddess materialised in a sprinkle of golden dust. She wore nothing but a golden shawl across her shoulders that offered minimal modesty, the tips of it just covering her pubis. “Is that for me?” She pointed at the pile of washing.

Korrina blinked. “Er… yes.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight before her.

Kallisto held out a manicured hand. When Korrina didn’t move, she said, “Well? Aren’t you going to give it to me?”

“Oh,” Korrina breathed. “Yes, oh yes.”

Kallisto led her further into the room, beckoning her with a crook of her finger. Korrina’s throat was dry, her heartbeat wild in her chest, and she felt that she would explode at any moment. Before Korrina could react, Kallisto took the pile of washing and placed it ­­on top of an ornate dresser. “There,” she said with a smug smile.

Korrina stared at the goddess, at a loss for what to do. The knife was out of her hands, and Kallisto –

Kallisto, as it turned out, was standing behind her, pressing up against her back. Korrina gasped, feeling Kallisto’s warm breasts on her skin as Kallisto caressed Korrina’s shoulders and arms. Kallisto pressed a light kiss on Korrina’s shoulder and Korrina was lost.

“Please,” she whispered, not knowing what exactly she was begging for, but knowing she would take whatever the goddess offered.

* * *

Aristomache slapped Korrina’s cheek so hard the handmaiden flew across the room. “You’re a disgrace!” she yelled. “I give you one task – _one task_ – and what do you do? You let the one you’re supposed to kill take you to bed! You let yourself get distracted and fall for her charms! You completely disappoint me! Me, the goddess of war!”

Korrina got up onto her knees but didn’t stand, pressing her hand to her cheek and trying to stop the flow of tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed through the blood in her mouth. “I’m sorry, mistress.”

“You will be sorry,” Aristomache growled. “Pack your things and go; you are not to set foot in this place ever again, do you hear me? You will walk the earth for eternity with the rest of the miserable mortals who roam its surface. Go!”

Sobbing, Korrina fled.

Aristomache sighed, and snapped her fingers. She dematerialised and rematerialised on earth. “Ah,” she said to herself as she walked into the Amazon city, “this is more like it.”

The city was full of women warriors, young and old, and she passed two Amazons fighting in a ring. She watched for a while, cheering them on with the rest of the crowd. She betted on the taller one, a blonde who resembled Aristomache herself. _Actually…_ No, it wasn’t her daughter. Aristomache sighed.

At the end of the match, the blonde was declared the winner, and the audience went crazy; Aristomache figured she was their champion. She collected her winnings before approaching the victor. “What’s your name?” Aristomache asked the Amazon.

The Amazon’s eyes widened. “I’m Roxane,” she said.

“Roxane,” Aristomache let the name roll on her tongue. “Roxane. Do you know who I am?” She removed her hood.

Roxane nodded, mouth open. “You’re… you’re Aristomache.”

“I am.” Aristomache smiled. “You fight well,” she said.

Roxane gazed at the goddess. “Thank you.” She looked ready to cry.

“Tell me, Roxane, how would you like to do something for me to gain my favour?”

 “I’ll do anything,” whispered Roxane.

Aristomache laid a hand on Roxane’s shoulder. “Good.”

* * *

Roxane took great pride in being an Amazon. She took just as much pride in being a daughter of Aristomache, goddess of war. Hence her determination, as strong as iron, to do this and to do it right. She couldn’t use her bodily strength to commit the act – that would be too obvious; her Amazon status would give her away – so she carried with her a vial she’d bought from her local wisewoman, secreted in her clothes.  She’d left her sword and armour in Aristomache’s chambers and dressed in the guise of a handmaiden, with a white tunic that flowed to her knees.

 _Nothing can go wrong_ , Roxane promised herself. _You are doing your goddess’s bidding._

With this in mind, she walked the great halls until she reached Kallisto’s boudoir, chanting a mantra of “For Aristomache” in her head as her sandals slapped the grand marble floors of the home of the gods. She knocked on the door. While she waited for an answer, she ripped the neckline of her dress a little lower and pushed up her breasts. She double-checked that the vial was still in place, her fingers gliding over the smooth glass.

When the door opened, Roxane was smiling, and she looked the goddess of love straight in the eyes, pouting, “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Kallisto looked Roxane up and down, and Roxane’s breathing grew faster as her body warmed under that bold gaze. _By the gods_ , she thought in wonder. _Whatever she asks, I’ll willingly give._ She’d never experienced anything like it.

Kallisto licked her lips and pulled Roxane inside.

* * *

Aristomache pushed Roxane to her knees and grabbed a fistful of her hair. “You’re lucky I consider all Amazons my children, girl, or else you’d be dead before you can say, ‘I failed you, O Great Goddess of War!’”

Roxane cast her gaze down at the floor. She couldn’t meet her goddess’s eyes.

Aristomache pulled on Roxane’s hair, and shoved her face in Roxane’s. “Instead of dying, you will spend the rest of your miserable mortal life remembering and repenting the day you let the goddess of love tempt you away from your sacred duty,” she declared, her nose almost touching Roxane’s.

“Now go.” Aristomache gave Roxane’s hair one final tug before pushing her away. “And regret that you could’ve won my favour!” she shouted at Roxane’s retreating back. “You could’ve been the goddess of war’s favourite!”

Once she was alone, Aristomache grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a spear, and broke it in two, swearing to the empty room. She let out a deafening scream, and afterwards had to recover her breath and down some water that Korrina had left there. Then, she strode out of the room and along the halls, and burst into Kallisto’s chambers. “This is not funny, Kallisto!” she announced her entrance.

Kallisto appeared, dressed in a low-cut red silk dress that clung to her curves. “No-one’s laughing,” she drawled, holding up a knife and a green vial. “In fact, you tried to have me killed. But you can’t have wanted it that badly, since you sent two incompetents to do your dirty work for you.” Tossing the weapons to the side, she stretched up against the wall and stared at Aristomache, a smirk crossing her features.

 _Damn you and your stupid smirk_ , thought Aristomache, and she pounced on Kallisto, holding Kallisto’s hands in place above her head and against the wall, pressing her whole body against Kallisto and kissing her and kissing her and –

Kallisto pulled away and grinned. But Aristomache didn’t have much time to look at her before Kallisto pulled her to her and kissed her and made her weak at the knees. Aristomache, still restraining Kallisto’s hands, pressed her thigh between Kallisto’s legs. Kallisto ground down on it, throwing her head back against the wall and eliciting the most delicious moan Aristomache had ever heard in her immortal life. Aristomache fought not to moan herself, and instead focussed on holding Kallisto against the wall and kissing her until she needed to breathe.

While they were both catching their breaths, Kallisto managed to wriggle one of her hands free, and she slid it under Aristomache’s tunic, fingers thrusting into her wetness.

 _You cheeky bitch_ , thought Aristomache, and removed her thigh from in between Kallisto’s legs to replace it with two rough fingers on her clit, still restraining Kallisto’s hand. Aristomache rubbed Kallisto’s clitoris without mercy, watching as the goddess of love came undone before her, screaming in pleasure. Aristomache, on the other hand, was fighting her own rising pleasure as she clenched around Kallisto’s fingers, gasping and burying her blonde head in Kallisto’s dark shoulder.

Kallisto came first, crying out Aristomache’s name as her body shuddered its release. Aristomache, feeling her own orgasm approach, lifted up her head to devour Kallisto’s mouth, all the while drawing Kallisto to completion.

“Mmm,” Aristomache sighed as Kallisto continued to thrust into her.

“Shhh.” Kallisto kissed her to shut her up, and then Aristomache too was coming, moaning into Kallisto’s mouth and clutching Kallisto’s hand tighter against the wall.

They removed her hands from each other’s skirts, and Aristomache stood with her head hanging down, panting, pressing against Kallisto.

Kallisto was the first to laugh, a rich joyous sound that rang through the air like bells. Aristomache followed suit, resting her forehead against Kallisto’s.

* * *

Later, they lay between Kallisto's satin sheets, caressing each other’s warm, sweat-soaked skin.

Kallisto leaned her head on Aristomache’s shoulder. “Next time you’re angry with me can we just skip to the angry sex part instead of you trying to have me assassinated?” she said. “Killing each other doesn’t create healthy relationships.”

Aristomache poked her arm. “We’ll see,” she answered. “If you stop stealing and seducing my girls, I’ll stop sending assassins after you.”

Kallisto sighed. “Fine; a compromise. Because that’s what humans do.”

“We’re not humans though,” Aristomache pointed out.

“You’re right; we’re gods,” Kallisto assented, “better than those pesky little mortals. Okay then, compromise is what happens in relationships.”

“How romantic. I can really see how you became the goddess of love.”

Kallisto smacked Aristomache’s arse. “You’ll pay for that, dear,” she warned.

“Oh, I count on it,” Aristomache smirked.

Kallisto slid her hand up Aristomache’s body to massage Aristomache’s breast. “I am sorry, you know,” she said.

“Me too," Aristomache sighed. "It got out of hand, and I apologise. The make up sex was good, though.”

“Yeah, it was.” Kallisto’s smile was radiant.

Aristomache promised to stop orchestrating Kallisto’s death. Whether she would uphold that was a different story - after all, Eirene _was_ her favourite Amazon.


End file.
